


Safety Not Guaranteed

by foxxcub



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Feelstide 2014, M/M, a frat house christmas miracle, foxxcub writes a college au must be a day ending in y, frat boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxxcub/pseuds/foxxcub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil was informed of the Sigma Iota tradition of White Elephant two weeks before Christmas break. He’d heard of other chapters on campus having holiday parties and had figured the SI’s did the same.</p><p>But he was quickly learning the SI’s didn’t do things quite like other fraternities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safety Not Guaranteed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Feelstide 2014 for prompt #7: _White Elephant gift exchange._
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with what exactly a White Elephant exchange is, here's a handy Wikipedia link! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_elephant_gift_exchange
> 
> Many thanks to Laura for the beta!
> 
> I should add that this is NOT a sequel/continuation of the Feelstide college AU I posted last year. Different AU, different frat, etc. I just write a lot of college AUs, shut up.

The thing is, Phil had been making good decisions for the majority of his nineteen years, so he figured he was due for a hiccup. He’d spent the last year getting excellent grades at a community college in order to transfer on a scholarship to a more prestigious university, and he’d succeeded. He’d also managed to go his entire freshman year without relying on his single mom to pay for a damn thing. All in all, Phil Coulson was doing really well for himself, so he deserved to celebrate.

And “celebrating” meant joining a fraternity on campus and having a one-night stand at the ensuing bid day party.

Phil hadn’t gotten that drunk in...well, at least since his high school graduation. He’d been handed a lot of shots, which was after he’d been handed more than a couple cans of Nat Lite. The details of the drinking were fuzzy, to say the least.

The sex, however, was not.

He hated admitting he couldn’t remember the guy’s name; Phil remembered smiling at his snarky, dry comment about the lack of “quality beverages” and thinking he’d never met a guy so overwhelmingly hot before. It could’ve been the alcohol talking, but the guy was all solid muscle and spiky, rumpled blond hair, and blue eyes that looked like they held secrets that only a select few could pry out of him. Phil had found himself wanting to be one of those select few.

Phil had then found himself stumbling into a random room and getting shoved back onto a cushy queen-size bed while being kissed within an inch of his life.

He hadn’t slept with many guys—two, to be exact. Both times had been quick and satisfactory. But this time, Phil could barely catch his breath as clothes went flying, and he suddenly had miles of gorgeous, naked skin spread out above him. The guy had the presence of mind to look sheepish as he groaned, “Fuck, I don’t have any— wasn’t exactly planning on getting laid tonight,” and Phil had laughed and replied, “Join the club.”

Hot Guy had grinned like he was sex incarnate, and slid his bare cock right up alongside Phil’s. They hadn’t even needed lube; they’d been so fucking wet for each other the precome more than did the job. 

Phil couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard. 

They’d been a complete mess of come after that, but Hot Guy kept slowly rutting through the slick on Phil’s stomach, whispering filth in Phil’s ear about how sexy Phil was, how he wished Phil could fuck him, how he wanted to get hard again just so Phil could suck his dick. Phil may have whimpered embarrassingly at that, but those little details still remained a blur.

Unfortunately, they’d also been very, very inebriated, and round two never happened. Phil passed out not long after that, the combination of a spectacular orgasm and too many shots proving too much for him. He vaguely remembered Hot Guy draping his arm across Phil’s chest and murmuring something about a nap.

The last thing that had flittered through Phil’s mind before unconsciousness hit him was that he was asking Hot Guy’s name as soon as he woke up. He was also going to ask him out on a real date, which would hopefully be followed by more mind-blowing sex.

~

Phil had woken up to the sound of someone banging on the bedroom door and yelling about the cops. He’d groaned loudly, and had rolled over to shake Hot Guy awake.

The other side of the bed had been empty.

~

Phil was informed of the Sigma Iota tradition of White Elephant two weeks before Christmas break. He’d heard of other chapters on campus having holiday parties and had figured the SI’s did the same.

But he was quickly learning the SI’s didn’t do things quite like other fraternities.

“Naw, man, fuck that boring-ass party shit,” Nick said. “You can get shitfaced any time of the year. White Elephant means you can get shitfaced _and_ watch hilarious shit go down.”

“Isn’t it mostly just...sitting around and watching people open packages of old socks and stuff?” Phil had witnessed a couple of White Elephants in high school. People scrounging for crap in their rooms wasn’t exactly his idea of holiday fun.

Nick grinned at him in that really unsettling way he had. Phil loved that he and Nick had hit it off like gangbusters when Nick was assigned as his pledge brother, but sometimes Nick made Phil super anxious. “You’ve never seen an SI White Elephant,” Nick said. “You’re in for a treat, Coulson.”

Phil had no idea whether to be intrigued, terrified, or both. 

The next night at dinner, Tony Stark dropped down into the seat beside him and said nonchalantly, “Just so you know, I have no boundaries, so everything’s fair game.”

Phil paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Um?”

“Y’know, when you go scouting.”

“Scouting?”

Tony huffed. “Jesus, Fury didn’t fill you in?”

“...No?” He glanced across the table at Trip, a freshman SI pledge. “Do you have any clue what he’s talking about?”

Trip shrugged. “He means White Elephant. Didn’t you get your assignment? Fury emailed them out this morning.”

“And I bribed Nick into telling me who’d gotten my name,” Tony added solemnly. “Obviously he was drunk and decided to go easy on me this year.”

Trip grinned. “What, you don’t think Coulson can find the good stuff?”

“Oh, I’m sure he can.” Tony patted Phil’s shoulder. “But he’s a good guy. He makes good choices.”

“Can everyone stop referring to me like I’m not in the damn room and explain what the fuck is going on?” Phil demanded, feeling a touch panicky. 

Tony gave Phil a sympathetic look. “It’s all in the pledge manual.”

Trip snorted. “No, it’s not. Basically you’re assigned two names for White Elephant: one to give your gift to, and the other to...use to find said gift. And then you have a week to track shit down.”

“Wait, you’re saying I’m supposed to _steal_ something from Stark to give as my White Elephant gift?” Phil paused, the whole system slowly sinking in. “And someone’s gonna steal something from _me_?”

“It’s not stealing, Newbie, it’s more of a redistribution. Besides, there _are_ rules—we’re not animals,” Tony said.

Trip held up a hand and started ticking off points. “Nothing super valuable, no textbooks or study guides, no confidential computer files—”

“Secret porn stashes,” Tony supplied. “Someone accidentally got outed one year, it wasn’t pretty.”

“—And if the dude wants his shit back at the end of White Elephant, the original owner has to take it up with the recipient, not the giver.”

“Convenient,” Phil drawled sardonically.

“Economical,” Tony said. “This is an ancient tradition passed down through the ages, Coulson. Show some Christmas spirit.”

“I’m giving Barnes a half-empty jar of pickles I found under Mack’s bed,” Trip said. “There’s mold in it that’s probably halfway to being sentient.”

Tony fist-bumped Trip. “Keep the dream alive, my friend.”

Not for the first time, Phil wondered what kind of lunatic society he’d allowed himself to join.

~

Phil had a single room in one of the dorms closest to the SI house, and he planned to keep it that way; room and board were cheaper and he didn’t run the risk of getting woken up at 3am by Wade Wilson demanding he do shots. Most importantly, he could keep a sense of privacy.

Not that he had anything super incriminating in his room. Everyone knew Phil had a huge obsession with Captain America memorabilia—stealing his mint condition trading cards would piss him off, but it wouldn’t embarrass him or make for any kind of hilarious entertainment. In fact, everything in Phil’s room was kind of boring. 

Well. Except one thing. 

But that was tucked away in plain sight, and Phil doubted whomever was going to snoop wouldn’t even blink at a pair of faded purple Calvin Klein boxer briefs, even if they did once belong to Phil’s nameless hook-up. When Phil had gotten dressed in the dark that night, he’d thought he’d grabbed his own underwear. Apparently Hot Guy had thought the same, and now Phil was stupidly holding onto the only proof he had that Hot Guy even existed. 

It had been three and a half months. Phil knew he shouldn’t pine for a one-night stand, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Hot Guy’s laugh and how the sex hadn’t just been hot, it was _fun_. 

The first really memorable sex of Phil’s life and he didn’t even know if the guy went to the same school as him. 

His dejected moping was interrupted by a text from Nick: _Tony’s out for the evening, it’s scouting time._

Phil had a sneaking suspicion he was being lured away from his room for someone else’s scouting purposes, but it had to happen eventually. With a sigh, he grabbed a hoodie and headed out the door, leaving his room to the mercy of SI White Elephant.

~

Tony Stark kept a diary. A leather bound, gold leaf diary filled with the most over-the-top, ridiculously terrible poetry written for a girl named Pepper. Half the poems were just bad rip-offs of Shakespeare sonnets with more sexually explicit content.

Phil had struck gold.

“Yup, that’s a keeper,” Nick said with a pleased nod. “Although you should be warned that nothing ever embarrasses Tony.”

“He has entire pages full of Taylor Swift lyrics,” Phil said. “All the i’s are dotted with hearts.”

“Again, not surprising. The real question is, does Miss Pepper know about this?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “You’re not suggesting I tell her—”

Nick waved his hand. “Fuck no, that’s crossing a line. What I _am_ suggesting is you let Stark _think_ you told her.”

“Would he buy it?”

“From you? Probably not. Luckily, you’re giving his diary to Rhodey, who would totally convince Stark. I’ll give you his email.” 

Phil didn’t know Rhodes well, but he knew he was an upperclassman and close with Tony. A White Elephant alliance didn’t sound too difficult. “Hey, one more question—does Stark have a roommate? I saw a second bed that looked like it belonged to someone else, but I thought all seniors got their own rooms.”

Nick smirked. “Tony has a roommate in name only. That’s Clint Barton’s shit, but technically he’s not an active member.”

“Who’s Clint Barton?” 

“He’s a sophomore like you, but he had to drop out of school due to money issues. We all adore the guy, though, so we keep his stuff in Tony’s room so he can keep his SI privileges. As far as National Headquarters is concerned, Clint still goes to school here.” Nick shrugged. “He’ll probably be back next semester, anyway. He was at the bid day party, I should’ve introduced you.”

Phil’s heart made a weird jerk. “He was?” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, _Is he blond and hot as hell?_

“Yeah, and depending on if he can swing his work schedule, he might come to White Elephant, too.”

There was no reason for Phil’s palms to start sweating. Nick hadn’t given him any information suggesting Clint was Hot Guy, save the fact that Clint had been at the same party as Phil. It was just wishful thinking on Phil’s part.

But his mouth felt too dry when he asked as nonchalantly as possible, “If he shows up, you should point him out to me.”

“Definitely. Barton’s an awesome guy, you’ll love him.”

Phil’s cheeks went slightly pink. 

~

The Sigma Iota house was one of the smaller, more dilapidated Greek houses on campus, and yet they still managed to squeeze a fifteen-foot pine tree into the main lobby. The thing was covered with enough lights to pose a fire hazard, and all the ornaments were about a billion years old; they were either vintage or lifted from a post-Christmas dumpster. 

Lance Hunter, another member of Phil’s pledge class, stood next to Phil as he gazed up at the monstrosity and said, “I heard one year the tree had a brown recluse’s nest in it and the whole house had to be fumigated.”

“Fake trees don’t have that pine scent,” Phil said with a smirk.

“Your pine scent can fuck right off if it means I’m forced to live in a bloody horror movie.” Hunter shuddered and glared daggers at the tree, as if imaginary spiders were somehow hidden inside.

“Everyone get their collective asses to the chapter room!” Fury yelled from somewhere upstairs. He sounded more than slightly tipsy. “Pledges first!”

“Hey, do we get booze, too?” Hunter yelled back.

“If we don’t drink it all!” Phil heard Tony cackle, and knew immediately that anyone not a full-fledged member was not going to be drinking a damn thing. Which was fine, anyway, Phil had a final to study for as soon as this thing wrapped up, not to mention a paper to write, and—

He came to a screeching halt in the doorway. A mountain of grotesquely-wrapped gifts sat in the center of the room surrounding a large inflatable snowman with Sigma Iota written all over it. But the shrine to SI White Elephant didn’t have Phil’s attention.

The guy sitting on the back of the couch did, because that guy was Hot Guy. And he was talking to Rhodes and a of couple other guys like it was no big deal, like he completely belonged in Phil’s fraternity house.

He looked utterly, ridiculously gorgeous. Phil couldn’t breathe.

“Ah, Barton made it, sweet,” Hunter said.

Phil spluttered, “You _know_ him?”

Hunter laughed. “That’s Clint Barton, mate, everyone knows him. What, didn’t you go to the bid day party?”

Phil wanted to die. And he definitely didn’t have a fucking clue about what to say once Clint looked up and recognized him.

...He _would_ recognize him, right? They hadn’t been so drunk that night that Phil’s face was forgettable...even if he barely remembered leaving the party himself. 

But Clint had been the one to leave without saying anything…

Phil’s stomach dropped like a stone. He quickly ducked behind the snowman and out of Clint’s line of sight. _Fuck._

“Are you hiding?”

Phil glanced up at Trip, who was standing over him looking rather bemused. “No,” he huffed. “I’m sitting. Duh.”

“If you’re that freaked out about what shit you’re gonna get, I wouldn’t worry too much. I heard a rumor that Banner’s your gifter,” Trip said as he dropped down on the carpet beside Phil. 

“Oh, nice. Great. That’s a relief.” Phil forced a grin and pretended he wasn’t having a quiet meltdown.

“Gentleman! Let the White Elephant festivities begin!” Tony bellowed. He swept into the room dressed in full Santa costume and dragging the biggest red velvet bag Phil had ever seen. It was so huge, Fury and two other guys had to help get the thing through the doorway. Once the chaos of everyone losing their shit over the giant Santa Bag quieted down somewhat, Tony climbed onto a folding chair and announced, “Who’s ready for some damn good family fun?”

“Do I get a stripper this year?” Wade Wilson asked. He’d somehow climbed onto the mantle over the fireplace and was laying across it rather seductively.

“Talk to Parker about that after the festivities, he volunteered,” Tony said, and in the background Phil heard Parker’s indignant, “Hey!”

Nick held up his right hand, which held a silver flask with SI letters. “Y’all know the rules: any stealing and/or deal-making must be done once all presents are revealed, and the original owner must be consulted. No physical fights, but monetary compensation is allowed.” He tipped the flask at Tony. “Santa, it’s all yours.”

Tony pulled a long, narrow box wrapped in newspaper out of the Santa Bag. “Fitz! You’re first, bro!”

Fitz, a junior even though he was only eighteen, grimaced to a chorus of cheers and applause. As he reached for his gift, he said sternly, “If it’s a biohazard, I’m burning it, I swear to God.”

“That was _one time_ ,” someone yelled, and out of the corner of Phil’s eye he caught Clint laughing, his head bowed and his nose crinkled up. Phil remembered that laugh. He remembered how much it made him want to kiss him—Hot Guy. _Clint._

“Damn it,” Phil breathed right as Fitz revealed a rather ornate broom from its box.

“Um,” Fitz said.

“My Quidditch broom!” Wade yelled, and promptly vaulted off the mantle to leap at Fitz, who brandished the broom at Wade.

“Rules, remember the rules, Wilson!”

“I’m gonna find the fucker who picked my broom case lock and _murder them_.” Wade glared at the room at large and flipped everyone the bird.

From there, the gifts only got more hysterical. Along with a whole host of sex toys, there were various (well-loved) stuffed animals, a VHS copy of _9 ½ Weeks_ , packages of beef jerky from Canada, and _The Kama Sutra_ written entirely in Korean with cartoon animals (“Look, whatever, eBay is awesome,” Logan said). 

Okay, so White Elephant wasn’t so bad. If Phil weren’t desperately trying not to peer covertly around a giant snowman to stare at a guy who didn’t even realize he’d seen Phil naked, he might actually have enjoyed himself. At least Clint wasn’t getting a gift since he wasn’t an active member.

“Barton, heads up!” Tony said, and tossed a present to Clint.

“Aw, dude! I didn’t even get a name this year!” Clint said. He turned the small package over in his hands, his fingers sliding gracefully over the gaudy wrapping paper.

Phil bit his lip and hunched into his hoodie. God, why did Clint have to be so fucking hot? Why couldn’t Phil have just imagined him in his drunken stupor?

“We figured you needed in on the action this year,” Nick drawled, which made Phil immediately go on alert.

Nick only used that tone when he was plotting something. 

Phil’s heart immediately began to race.

“Okay, fine, if everyone’s cool with me going against the rules,” Clint laughed as he tore into his present. It was a plain blue shoebox, nothing spectacular, and for moment Phil thought he was overreacting. 

Then Clint lifted the lid and his laughing stop. “Uh…” He frowned, and Phil watched as a slow pink flush spread over his cheeks.

“Well?” Stark asked. He sounded amused.

“I, um.” Clint swallowed before holding up a pair of purple Calvin Klein underwear. “I think these are mine? Yeah, they’re mine. I...thought I’d lost ‘em.”

“Naw, they weren’t lost,” Nick said, and to Phil’s horror he looked straight at him and grinned. Which made Clint follow Nick’s line of sight and finally meet Phil’s eyes.

Clint’s mouth fell open.

“Oh shit,” Wilson said, “did Barton and Coulson actually—?”

Phil scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room.

He made it all the way out onto the front steps of the house when he heard, “Hey, wait!”

It was Clint.

Phil wanted to throw up. This wasn’t how he’d fantasized about meeting up with Hot Guy again, with Hot Guy’s underwear being stolen from _Phil’s room_ and presented in front of the entire fraternity. Nick was behind it all, too, and God knew how long he’d known about Phil and Clint’s… _thing_. But he’d known enough to scout Phil’s room.

When Phil finished wanting to melt into the ground, he was going to punch Nick Fury in the face. Maybe more than once.

He turned around slowly, squaring his shoulders. He kept his shaking hands curled into the pockets of his hoodie as he faced Clint, who stood a couple steps above him.

“You’re...one of the pledges,” Clint said slowly. He looked lost. 

Phil nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Coulson. Phil Coulson.” His mouth felt too dry.

“Phil.” Clint said his name like he was trying it out on his tongue. “I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Phil said. 

Weirdly, a hurt look flashed in Clint’s eyes. “Oh.”

“I mean, I didn’t—I didn’t _know_ who you were until today? I thought maybe you’d—that it was just—”

“A one-time thing,” Clint said. He stepped down until they were nearly eye to eye. “I guess you probably know why I’m not technically an SI anymore.”

Phil shrugged. “Sort of.” 

“I manage an apartment complex downtown. Things got...complicated over the summer. I had to drop out of school for a while.”

“Is everything okay now?” Phil didn’t know why he asked, or why he thought it was any of his business. What he did know is that the pull he felt from this guy was still ridiculously strong, and the urge to know all his secrets was just as overwhelming.

It hadn’t just been about the sex. 

Clint smiled crookedly. “Kind of,” he said, and Phil really, really wanted to kiss him. “But I can’t come back to school for a while. At least for another six months or so.”

Phil’s heart sank. “Does that mean you’ll officially quit Sigma Iota?”

“Eventually the Powers That Be’ll figure out I’m not a student anymore and kick me out. I don’t want to leave, I love these guys, but…”

“Yeah.” Phil glanced away and hoped he didn’t sound as dejected as he felt. “Well. Sorry about the, um. Y’know. Underwear situation.”

Clint leaned in a little closer. “Don’t be. It helped solve the mystery of who the gorgeous guy I had the best sex of my life with on bid day was,” he whispered. 

Phil laughed awkwardly. “We were both drunk and you left,” he said, refusing to look at Clint’s mouth. 

“True, but I remember everything about that night. I remember everything about you. And I only left because…” He ducked his head. “I got a text from one of my tenants. There was a fight, I had to—”

“You don’t have to make something up. I get it. I know what a one-night-stand is.” Phil started to back away, but Clint grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him back until his arm was flush against Clint’s chest.

“I’m not making it up. You can come to my building, I’ll show you around. You can meet Lucky.”

“Lucky?” 

“My dog.” The hand around Phil’s wrist slid up and around until their palms pressed together, Clint’s fingers pushing between Phil’s. 

They stood like that for a long, quiet moment, Phil looking down at their entwined hands and wondering where the hell they went from here. Did they spend the next few weeks learning to be friends? Did they go on to become fuck buddies who sort of shared a fraternity?

He must’ve made a face, because Clint winced and said, “I take it you don’t like dogs?”

“No, no, I love dogs, it’s just. I can’t…” He bit the inside of his lip. _Fuck it,_ he’d waited long enough. Phil took a deep breath, but before he could say anything, Clint dropped his hand and sighed.

“If it was just sex, you can tell me. I won’t push for anything else. I realize we barely know each other—fuck, I didn’t even know your name until today—but I...I liked you. That night. I’d planned on asking you out when we woke up, but like I said, shit happened. And then you were gone and I had no idea where to look for you.” 

Phil blinked at him. “You were going to ask me out?”

Clint’s cheeks grew very pink. “Shit, I wanted to do it before, uh, everything else happened, but then you kissed me and I sort of got distracted.” He grinned sheepishly, looking simultaneously so sweet and hot that Phil wanted to push him against the side of the house and _wreck_ him.

“I’ve thought about you nonstop since that night,” Phil blurted out. “And I kept your underwear like a creeper because it was...yours.” 

Clint’s eyes flared, then his sheepish grinned melted into a devastatingly sexy smirk. “You thought about me, huh?” he drawled as he reached out and tugged on one of the strings of Phil’s hoodie. “Good thoughts or bad thoughts?”

 _Both._ “I just kept thinking about how—how it felt like we’d missed an opportunity. Like we were, y’know.” Phil swallowed, heat blooming across his face, “Meant to be something. Whatever it was.” They were very close again, and Phil watched as Clint licked slowly over his mouth, his lovely blue eyes growing dark.

“That’s awfully romantic, Coulson.”

“Don’t tell Fury, he’ll give me shit for weeks.” They were also whispering again, and Phil wanted to kiss Clint so badly he could taste it. 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Clint tilted his head slightly, closed what little space was left between them, and brushed his lips over Phil’s. “I wanna be something with you, Phil Coulson,” he breathed.

“Yes,” Phil said a little too breathlessly. His hands had somehow ended up tangled in the front of Clint’s hoodie. 

“Preferably boyfriends, but if you want to—”

“No, boyfriends is good.” He bit lightly at Clint’s lower lip, and shivered when Clint made a high whimpering sound Phil remembered well.

“But just so you know— ” Clint groaned as Phil pushed his hand into Clint’s hair, cupping the back of his head “ —I have an apartment rent-free. We don’t have to worry about Stark catching us making out in his room this time.”

Phil jerked back. “Wait, Stark saw us that night?”

Clint shrugged with chagrin. “I’m his not-roommate. He was around when I sort of, ah, manhandled you into my bed.”

And more than likely Tony told Nick about it all. This whole time Clint’s identity had been right under Phil’s nose—and Nick knew it. 

“That rat bastard,” Phil muttered.

“Yeah, we’re in a frat full of dickbags, but that’s the beauty of Sigma Iota.” Clint kissed him again, slow and long until Phil was dizzy with it. 

“Come home with me?” Clint whispered, his cold fingertips against Phil’s cheek.

Daylight was almost completely gone, and it was just beginning to snow. Flakes were sticking to Clint’s eyelashes, the ends of his hair. 

“What about White Elephant?” Phil asked, although at the moment he couldn’t give a shit about anything that wasn’t Clint. 

Clint hummed happily as he nuzzled Phil’s neck. “We already saw Wilson’s Quidditch broom get ninja’d. Nothing can live up to that.”

As if right on cue, the front door opened and Bucky Barnes threw Clint’s underwear at Clint’s head. “Jesus Christ, you two, take these and get a fucking room, this is a family establishment!”

Clint beamed and gave Barnes the finger, while his other hand slid down to grab Phil’s ass.

~

The next morning, when Phil was fucked out and wrapped up naked in Clint’s blankets and happier than he’d been in ages, his phone rang.

“Are you decent?” Fury asked.

“It’s nine in the morning on Saturday, why are you awake and sober?” Phil stretched and rolled onto his stomach, tucking Clint’s pillow under his chin. Clint had gone in search of coffee and bagels, and in the meantime Phil had been lying in bed getting hard again, planning various things to do after breakfast that involved zero clothing.

“Goddamn, you sound smugly sexed.”

Phil grinned up at the ceiling. “Thanks. Although, actually, I should say fuck you.”

“Because?”

“Because you knew it was Clint all along and didn’t say a fucking word, you asshole.”

“Why do you think I purposely got your name for White Elephant? I’ve spent the last four months waiting for you to get a fucking clue, but no, you just marinated in your own pining angst. So, I took matters into my own hands. Tony scouted the Calvin Kleins and the rest was history.”

Phil wanted to be pissed. But it was easier said than done when he was blissfully hazy from a night of amazing marathon sex with his hot boyfriend. “I never angsted to you,” he said.

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, Coulson.”

“Was there a reason for this call?” Phil yawned, lazily rolling his morning erection against the mattress. 

“Tony wanted me to tell you job well done on the diary. He only peed himself a little when he thought Pepper had read it.”

“Right, because that couldn’t be texted to me. Admit it—you wanted to know if Clint and I hooked up.”

Nick snorted. “You two were a Jane Austen novel out there on the porch. The whole chapter was watching you like some goddamn telenovela.”

For some reason the image of his frat brothers watching him and Clint through the windows like a bunch of nosy old ladies made Phil grin. “I’m hanging up now.”

“So are you dating or what?” 

Phil heard the door to Clint’s apartment open and a dog bark. A few seconds later the smell of coffee drifted into the bedroom, followed by Clint and a panting Lucky. Clint held up a bag of bagels triumphantly as Lucky jumped up onto the bed.

“Who’re you talking to?” he asked as he handed Phil his coffee.

“A nosy dickhole,” Phil said. 

“Hey, Fury!” Clint called, climbing into bed and immediately curling into Phil’s side, kissing his bare shoulder. “Merry Christmas, you asshole!”

“Okay, so, definitely dating,” Nick said.

“Hanging up now,” Phil said again.

“You’re ungrateful and a terrible friend. Merry Christmas.” The line went dead as Phil laughed.

“What was that about?” Clint asked, trying to dig into the bagel bag without putting too much space between him and Phil.

“Fury gives us his blessing,” Phil drawled.

“Oh, thank God. It’s a Christmas miracle,” Clint said around a mouthful of bagel and cream cheese.

Phil leaned over and kissed him.

 

 

 

[end <3]


End file.
